“My name is Viola Orofino,” I broke.
“Is it really?” he asked, putting Idan’s chain around his neck.
“Yes.”
“And you come from where?”
“I don’t remember.”
“How convenient,” he said, piercing an orange from the table’s fruit bowl with his knife. “I did not want to remind you, but you leave me no choice.” He peeled away its skin. “Do you remember those papers Giuliano gave you at the workshop? Well, as they clearly state, you are my guest. As a result, I am the only one vouching for your legitimacy. Unfortunately for you, your status has changed.” He held a piece of parchment to my face.
“I am a prisoner?” I read aloud.
“It is a shame.”
“On what grounds?”
“I have yet to decide.” He popped an orange crescent in his mouth.
“You can’t hold me if I haven’t done anything wrong,” I said.
“How interesting it must be where you come from.” He laughed. “I do not need to remind you where you are because threats will only anger me. I hate dealing them out, so be a good girl and your punishment will be less severe.” He sighed. “Now I trust you will be more forthcoming with your answers.” Juice dripped down his chin. “Explain to me how Idan works? What do all these numbers mean?”
“They have to do with the time we are in right now. Three of the numbers show the date it is today. The other tells you the days I have left till the door opens.”
“What door?”
“The metal door that faces into the Piazza della Signoria.”
“There is no metal door there.”
“It’s painted to look like wood.”
“It shows the number one?”
“The door will open at dawn the day after tomorrow.” I cringed watching him handle Idan with his sticky fingers. “It’s my only chance to get back home.”
“You have yet to tell me how to control it,” he wiped the juice off his chin with his red sleeve.
“No one can … at least, I don’t know how.”
“Do not lie to me, girl.” He dropped the orange rinds on the floor.
“I’m not, I swear,” I pleaded.
“It is hard to believe you when everything that has come out of your mouth has been a lie. Where would this door take me?”
“If it did, it would take you to the future.”
“How far?”
“About six hundred years.” Lorenzo looked hungrily at Idan.
“How would I get back here?” he asked.
“Again, I don’t know.”
“Why did you come?”
“I was tricked,” I said.
“It is quite sad that you have never had control over your own circumstances … sort of like now,” he said, chewing on the last orange slice. “I think this conversation is at its end … at least for now.”
“What about my choice?”
“Oh yes, thank you for reminding me,” he said, cleaning the sharp knife on the tablecloth. “So you get to decide where you stay. I can offer you a cell in Le Stiche, which has a wide variety of vermin, a potent stench, and is overcrowded with prisoners of all sorts. Or, you could stay in the tower here at the Signoria. I should warn you it is awfully high and cold wind blows through there. What shall it be?”
“The tower.”
“Excellent, that is most convenient for me as well.” He smiled. “Alessandro! Come in.” The door flew open. “You can take her to the tower,” he ordered.
“Under what charges?” I yelled as Alessandro led me by the neck.
“I am not sure, but I am leaning towards stealing.”
“What!” I protested. “I have never stolen a thing in my life.”
“It was that or imprisoning you for breaking our dress and gender laws with all that Massimo nonsense. The fact stands, Viola, that you have no record of your identity. Therefore, I am the one writing your past, and let us be honest, your future.”
“But why stealing?”
“What a coincidence it is that the day you arrive in Florence, my family’s Donatello statue of David goes missing.”
“You have no proof!”
“I do not need it. You may take her now,” he repeated to Alessandro.
“What’s the punishment?” I asked, dragging my rubber heels against the tile floor.
“Death.”
I scrambled to escape Alessandro, but it was too late for that. My legs and arms flailed, but the guard merely pulled me over his shoulder and carried me out of the room and through the gold-ceilinged room. His breathing struggled with each step he took up the stairs. Judging by his balding head and the broken veins around his handsome nose, I guessed he was about fifty. His shoulders shook from supporting my body weight.
“You can put me down now,” I said, but he continued to fight. After ten more minutes of slow progress, he caved.
“Go on ahead then,” he heaved as he let me down.
We climbed up two flickering flights of stairs dripping with candle wax. The steps ended at the crenelated battlement that bulked out of the building below. Sand covered the floor that soldiers paced back and forth. Between the battlement’s steps, I looked down at the few lights that burned in the city below.
“No point now that you have nowhere to escape,” said Alessandro cutting the rope that bound my hands. “That way.” He pointed towards the tower. There was a small platform before entering the tower’s spiraling staircase. Before we reached the top, Alessandro stopped short of a low door that broke away from the steps. He fumbled with a heavy set of keys until the door opened. “In you go,” said Alessandro. I ducked into the cell but someone was already there.
“Alessandro,” said Giuliano, “I would like a few moments alone with Viola. Would you keep a watch outside to make sure we are undisturbed?” Alessandro looked uncomfortable with this situation.
He cleared his throat and pulled at the tight armor around his neck. “I was given orders that she was to have no visitors.”
“I too rule here and my word is equal to my brother’s,” retorted Giuliano. Alessandro’s shrug told me that it clearly was not the case.
“Come, Viola,” said Giuliano.
“I don’t want to even be in the same room as you. Let alone listen to you,” I said.
“Please … You’ll want to hear what I have to say.”
“I doubt it.” Alessandro closed the cell door. I moved to the farthest corner from Giuliano in that small stone chamber. Pale beams traveled through the only tall window casting a faint outline on the dusty floor. In the dark it was hard to tell how far up I was.
“I came to apologize for how things turned out,” said Giuliano, twisting the leather brim of his hat.
“Oh that’s nice to know because I am too. I’m really sorry that I fell for your act … let alone allowing you to kiss me.”
“I meant what I said in the garden. I really do care about you.”
“If that’s true, what am I doing stuck up in a tower?”
“I think my brother is just trying to frighten you. He would not go through with a hanging.”
“You think?” I hated his beautiful face so much that I could not think straight. “How did you know I was here?”
“I was listening from behind the door while you spoke with my brother.”
“Why didn’t you stick up for me?” I asked. He ran a hand through his curls. “I thought I was a coward until I met you. You give a new definition to the word.” I slumped against the corner until I felt my knees hit my chest.
“I wanted to! But my brother rarely listens to me.”
“Oh! He only listens to you after you spy on me and manipulate me with fake compliments and shady gift
s.”
“Any word about your person that has left my lips has been genuine!” exclaimed Giuliano. The wind howled during the quiet recess. “I brought you something,” he placed a wool blanket on the only piece of furniture in the cell, a rigid bench. “My grandfather Cosimo was imprisoned here at one point. Every time I asked him about it he would always tell me how cold it was and that was in the month of September, so I brought this blanket and I’ll leave my cloak too,” he said, unclasping the dark purple fabric that draped over his body.
We sat together in silence for at least an hour, my hands and face buried into my sweaty dress. I shivered, too proud to grab the blanket.
“I will work on persuading my brother … Do not worry,” he said, slipping through the door.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Visitors
It was not until the locks turned behind him that my panic turned into loneliness. “What will I do? Surely, Mrs. Reed will figure out a way for me to get out. She couldn’t go back without me, could she?” I told the moonlight that stole through the window. “But how did I know it was really Mrs. Reed? There were hints and the notes … but they could have been written by someone else, maybe Pietro?”
My mind ventured into a gloomy hopeless place. I tried to rock myself to sleep so I could suspend the pain that had crept up on me. The chill that frosted the stone surfaces made it impossible. That was when my pride surrendered. I strode to the opposite side of the cell and covered myself with the thick purple woolen cloak. Sometime in between the sobs, I fell asleep underneath the warm huddle perfumed by Giuliano’s minty cologne.
I woke to the sun caressing my back. My subconscious scrambled after the dream that was slipping away. It had been a bad dream, but it was better than the nightmare I had awoken to. There in my cloth cocoon I was safe. It had cost me my pride and possibly my own fatal judgment. With each inhale I allowed myself to think on Giuliano’s dimples, but with every exhale I cursed my weakness. My body was in survival mode searching for fat to feast on. My limbs moaned and my scabby skin felt taut. Dry flakes of blood from the sling stuck to my fingers.
There was a faint knock at the door before it opened. Alessandro came and placed a tray on the floor. Without saying another word, he left. I rolled out of the narrow bench. Novels had prepared me for ashen muck with a side dish of anonymous hairs. To my great surprise there was fresh bread, soft cheese, an apple, and some juice. With the tray in tow, I retreated to my bench and savored the breakfast with little bites.
As I chewed the morsels, I tried to prolong the inevitable—my future. Giuliano had promised that Lorenzo would not hang me. At least he was being positive. How much was his promise really worth? I couldn’t really tell the truth apart from the lies. Hanging or no hanging, it was clear I would never see my parents or my sister again. There was no way out. Tomorrow at dawn the metal door would open to a tunnel that would carry me home to my family. Stranded three hundred feet in the air, I would miss that open door and my only opportunity.
“How awful,” I groaned, realizing I could see the metal door from my window. I would not be able to go home but I could watch my captors cross through the tunnel’s threshold from my cell.
Up until that moment the ramifications of what might happen if the door did open for the Medici had not occurred to me. Worse than not being able to go home, I might be single-handedly responsible for imploding history. Those were the thoughts that kept me company when the locks turned again.
“Buongiorno, Signorina Orofino.” A shaved head and its sharp features snuck past the door. Pietro's lips puckered as they repressed a smile.
“Buongiorno.”
“What unfortunate circumstances we find ourselves in,” he said, rubbing his scalp. “No doubt you are scared about your punishment.” He let this reminder hang in the cold air before he continued. “But I have come to tell you there is no need to trouble yourself.” In any other scenario I would have jumped for joy, but my time in Florence had taught me to be skeptical if not defensive.
“Why is that?”
“Because I am willing to strike a deal with you … and forgive and forget what has occurred between us,” said Pietro.
“I’m sorry? Forgive what?” I asked. He pressed his fingers against the pressure points between his eyes. Before lifting his head, he counted softly.
“What do you say you and I drop this charade?” he said in sounds that were distantly familiar. It was so strange to hear English again and even more so to speak it. “You tell me where the statue is, and I will make sure you don’t die. What do you say? I don’t think you could refuse such a deal.” My tongue wagged a bit trying to find my bearings. “You are taking too long … which means you are trying to come up with some story.”
“What statue?”
“The one you saw at my house only a few days ago?” he said, impatiently tapping his left foot.
“I haven’t seen it since.” He stared at me a long while before speaking again.
“Do you have any idea how long and hard I have been working on that replica?”
“Are you talking about the David you stole from the Medici Palazzo?”
Pietro’s eyes darted towards the walls, half-expecting them to come to life. In one swift movement, he jolted forward, grabbing my neck between his rough hands. “I’m not to be played with, Viola … Again, what have you done with my sculpture?”
“I don’t know where it is,” I gasped, feeling his grip tighten.
He looked straight into my eyes searching for deceit, but when he did not find it, he let go. I coughed trying to move the lump in my throat.
“She must have taken it,” he murmured to himself. Pillows rested underneath his sunken eyes and wrinkles creased his dark tunic. He turned back to face me after regaining his composure. “It is unfortunate we were unable to help each other,” he said, starting for the cell’s entrance. He banged on the door and the keys scraped. “I’d keep Donatello’s David a secret just between us if I were in your shoes,” he said, smirking at my grungy converse. “Oh yes! And just in case you were wondering, she won’t come for you. Trust me, I know her very well.” He walked through the door.
“Who? Do you mean Mrs. Reed?” I shouted before the door slammed behind him.
In a short conversation my hopes of a rescue had vanished. I screamed something shrill that rang through the tower before I collapsed back on the bench. Hours of brooding crawled by as I mulled over the events of the past two days. Didn’t Leonardo have a plan? Or was he bluffing? Maybe I should have stayed in the cave… If only Zio knew how right he had been about the tower. Alessandro came back to switch the food trays, but the new meal lay forgotten on the terracotta floor. I could tell Lorenzo about the David … but who would he believe? I thought desperately.
An argument was brewing behind the door. I stood up and moved towards the raised voices. Even though my ear was pressed against the wood, I only caught a few words, “father," "problem," "trouble,” before I heard the locks shift again. I ran back to my bench and waited for my second guest.
“Signore Maroni!” I rushed towards his kind face and plump belly. “How did you—” I stopped when I felt a hard shell where his soft stomach should have been. “What?” I asked but he hushed me by placing a finger to his lips. His brilliant blue eyes winced with urgency.
“I have come to check on you, sweet girl,” he said in a loud voice, lifting up his tunic shirt. Beneath his tan undershirt, someone had coiled strong rope around his chest and past his paunch. He motioned for me to help him while he continued to spout fatherly concerns.
“Why have you not eaten your lunch? Is that a calzone? How lucky you are!”
I tried to move as quickly as my heart beat. I kissed the top of his head gratefully after I unraveled each layer. He blushed behind his square spectacles. He pointed towards the blank
ets.
“Do not worry, Viola, I’m sure the Medici will be merciful on you,” he said while I hid the pile of rope under the cloak. “Don’t be sad, you will see how much better you feel after nightfall.” He passed me a parchment that had been folded over several times. “Be sure to eat your food.” He winked, knocking on the door. “Starving yourself is not the answer,” he advised before tipping his hat at Alessandro.
The guard glanced at the discarded plate and grumbled something that sounded like “girls” before the door closed again. I waited several minutes before I loosened my fist around the note. Once I had unwrapped it, I immediately recognized the cryptic scrawl.
Viola,
Since I could not wrap enough rope to cover the distance between your window and the piazza, you will have to swing it. There is a metal clasp knotted to one end of the rope. Press on the circle to release what I like to call “the claw.” It should secure the rope to the window ledge. Swing to your left, as you are facing the tower, and then jump onto the roof top right behind the Signoria. I’ll be waiting for you there. Do not descend until the fun begins, just after nightfall. You will know when the time is right. Whatever happens, be the lioness.
Leonardo
My body trembled as I took a second look at the long fall between my window and the piazza. I stuck my head out and looked towards the right. The edge was barely visible from my limited vantage point. Tomato sauce speckled the paper while I reread the escape plan a hundred times over. I did not shred the paper until I had memorized its contents. Sore muscles twitched at each creak, squawk, and yelp. A bad case of the jitters infected me as I waited in nervous anticipation. I tried to rest and conserve my strength, but my eyelids kept blinking open trying to gauge the changing colors of the clear sky. Gradually, my pupils expanded with the dimming light.
Lost in the City of Flowers (The Histories of Idan Book 1) Page 29